For the artist who has to be the whole label.
Desktop tools
Powerful, but heavy and expensive. Hundreds of dollars, gigabytes of downloads, and instruments and plugins sold separately. Each one handles a single slice of the job.
The browser ones
Easy to open, but shallow. A few basic synths, thin effects and automation nobody really uses. They gave up depth to run in a tab. We didn't.
AI generators
Type a prompt, get a song. You can't edit the parts, it isn't really yours, and it has no idea what else your release needs. That's generating content. It isn't making music.
Onomo exists to close the gaps between those apps. It isn't a cheaper copy of any one of them. It's one place where the studio, the artwork, the video and the writing hand work to each other, so nothing gets lost between the idea and the release.
Most of us started making music as kids, on whatever we could find: a free trial, a friend's laptop, a phone. But the real tools cost real money. The professional studios people actually use run roughly $200 to $750 up front, or a monthly fee that never stops. And that's before the cover, the video, the artwork, each of which wants its own subscription too.
Now line that up against the rest of the planet. The world's median income is around $7 a day. For a huge share of the people making the music that's shaping global culture right now, a single license isn't an inconvenience. It's weeks of pay. A $300 wall at fifteen is a completely different wall than it is for a working producer at thirty.
It's been there so long the industry stopped seeing it. We can't. Talent isn't the thing that's scarce. Access is. A kid with the next great song shouldn't be priced out of making it, or out of the cover, the video, and everything else it takes to put it into the world.
Studio
A real DAW on its own audio engine: 50 synth engines spanning nearly every kind of synthesis, 28 drum engines, 42 effects, and a full arranger, mixer and automation system. It’s hand-written, not a sample player, and not a piano roll ported from 2005.
Canvas
A layered design editor for the cover, the single art and every post. It has real masks and blend modes, 178 fonts, and real 3D rendered live in the document. Its generators pulse to your song, AI shows the credit cost before you spend it, and one click exports every platform size.
Motion
A video editor that hears the song as a score, not a waveform. Bind any visual to the hits, the bass or the melody, auto-time a lyric video on your own machine, and fly a real 3D camera. It renders frame-accurate MP4 on your GPU, with no render queue and no watermark.
Journal
Where the song starts: a lyric editor with a built-in rhyme finder, voice memos that transcribe themselves, and an infinite brainstorm board. It also has a release planner built around what you create.
Instruments built from scratch.
50 synth engines and 28 drum engines running real DSP, plus thousands of factory sounds, all made on those same engines.
Slide notes and per-note stereo placement.
Multi-node pitch glides where each segment can ride its own LFO, plus pan and width automation on every note. Most desktop DAWs don’t go that deep at the note level, and this runs in a browser tab.
One project, no handoffs.
The cover opens with your title and artwork already on the page. The video lines up to lyrics you timed once. The plan keeps up with your live projects. You never re-export, re-upload or re-explain anything.
Foundry: starting points with nothing to clear.
Kit, loop and MIDI generators that run on rules, not on a model trained on anyone’s catalogue. With no training data involved, every result lands as editable parts you own outright.
Ono, the AI that works inside the session.
Ono has never heard a song. She isn’t trained on artist catalogues and doesn’t know what anyone sounds like. What she knows is music theory, the shared building blocks that belong to everyone, plus every parameter of every instrument in Onomo.
So she never hands you a finished bounce. She works in your actual project on MIDI patterns, synth parameters and arrangement structure, and everything she touches becomes a part you can grab, move, undo and call your own. She’s a collaborator who leaves the pen in your hand. She isn’t a vending machine that prints a track with your name taped to the front.
That isn’t just taste. It’s also the safer choice. In 2025 the U.S. Copyright Office said it plainly: work generated from a prompt alone, with no meaningful human authorship, can’t be copyrighted. Type a sentence and get a song, and the result isn’t legally yours. In practice it belongs to nobody. Onomo is built the other way on purpose. Everything stays editable because your editing is what makes the work human-authored, and human-authored work is something you can own and release.
Take Ono away and Onomo is still a complete platform. Take the AI away from most new music tools and there’s almost nothing left. One is a tool with AI inside it. The other is an AI with a thin tool wrapped around it.
General information, not legal advice. Copyright law around AI is still developing, so when in doubt, talk to a lawyer.
We could have built good standalone apps. Instead we built great ones that choose to stand together, and that difference is the entire point.
To be clear: these are still separate things. A cover doesn't have to belong to a song. You can sketch, experiment, and keep a dozen throwaway drafts that never touch each other, exactly like you should be able to. Nothing is fused; everything stays its own.
The difference is that when you want them to, they reach into each other. Open a cover from a track and your title and colors are already there. Pull lyrics you timed once into the video. Let the plan look at the song you're actually working on. No re-exporting, no re-uploading, no re-explaining. And no forcing, either.
The fragmented way is slower, but that isn't the real cost. It's where ideas go to die, in the gap between the app that had the spark and the app that needed it. A hook you couldn't find again. A palette that didn't survive the export. That gap is the thing we removed.
Separate when you want it. Connected when it counts. From the first hum to the day it drops.
It runs entirely in your browser: no installs, no gigabytes, no machine left behind. The same tab opens on a top-end desktop and on a borrowed laptop.
The instruments are built from the ground up, not stitched together from samples. That’s how a browser tab holds a real studio without feeling like a demo.
What you hear while you work is what you get when you export, with no surprises between the preview and the file.
Every surface speaks the same language under the hood. A song, its cover, its video and its plan move between each other directly, never through your downloads folder.
Onomo is live, and it’s being built in the open. Studio, Canvas, Motion and Journal are open to everyone today, and Studio sessions are already multiplayer. A better mobile experience and deeper links between the surfaces are next.
It isn’t finished, and we won’t pretend it is. It improves every week, and the people who show up early get a real say in what comes next.
Onomo is independent.
No investors. No board. No parent company deciding what gets built next, and nobody in a boardroom asking how to squeeze more out of you. Onomo is built out of love for the people who make things, and it answers to exactly one group: the artists who use it.
That's why your feedback isn't a survey that disappears into a spreadsheet. It's the roadmap. Most of what lands each week started as someone saying what was missing, what broke, or what they'd do differently. Say it, and there's a real chance you'll see it ship.
There's also no marketing budget. None. Onomo grows one way: someone makes something with it, likes it, and shows a friend. If it earns a place in how you work, share it. That's the whole plan, and it only works if we build it together.
Make something. Break something. Then tell us what you'd build if it were yours.
The roadmap is still being written, and the people writing it are the ones who actually make and release music. A focus group isn't writing it, and neither is the market. If you make things, we want you here early. The people who find Onomo now aren't users we acquired. They're the reason it becomes what it's going to be.
None of this is finished, and that's the fun part. It gets better every week, and a year from now today's version will look like a sketch. You don't have to wait for that one. Start on this one now, and watch it grow up around your work.
The music, the cover, the video and the words, all on whatever you're reading this on.
Made with ♥ in ATL